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"Why did you turn my messenger away, then, and say you were not here?" |
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"I did not turn him away. That was Sir Peter. At that time, I was imprisoned. No! Hush!" He tightened his grip again as he saw her wrath rekindle. "I said I would not tell you that tale now lest you act in haste. And, in truth, Alinor, I have sorer needs than the need of revenge on Sir Peter. I am hurt, a little, and I cannot say how tired." |
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"Curse me for a stupid, ill-natured witch," Alinor cried remorsefully. "Can you come up to the chamber above, or shall I bid them make up a bed for you here." |
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"Here," Ian replied immediately, surprised at the unease he felt when the room he had been held prisoner in was mentioned. He then smiled and shook his head at the intensified anxiety in Alinor's face. "Not because I am too weak to mount the stairs, Alinor. That was where I was locked in." |
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"In the main bedchamber?" Alinor asked with surprise. |
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Still she did not respond directly to Ian's nod of agreement. Instead, she pressed him into the seat she had risen from and went away briefly to make arrangements for a bath and bed for him. She did not return to the subject again until Ian had been bathed, had his wounds cared for, and was stretched on the bed. |
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"Whatever can the fool have been thinking of to lock you in there?" she muttered more to herself than to Ian, who was half asleep. |
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"Later," he said wearily, but a frown creased his brow. "That is the only false note in his tale. To hang a prison cell door in the entryway of the antechamber was not the work of an hour, nor was it done the day I arrived. A door must be built to fit the frame, and the very frame of the door needed to be built, and that was no brief hour's work. Thus, the plan had brewed in his mind for some time." |
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